


A Different Kind of Wedding Night

by harleygirl2648



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood Kink, Cuba, Dark, Hannibal Loves Will, Let's Make Murder Sexy, M/M, Murder Husbands, Sexy Times, Will Graham is a Tease, Will Loves Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-14 23:12:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9209555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harleygirl2648/pseuds/harleygirl2648
Summary: Hannibal and Will haven't killed together since the Dragon. Tonight, they remedy this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> how to write a hannigram fic, by me:
> 
> 1.) write to lana del rey on repeat
> 
> boom

Will twisted his brand-new wedding ring around on his finger. It matched the one on Hannibal’s own finger: sharp, polished black diamonds studding the thick band made of silver.

 

He had jokingly asked while they were looking at rings if Hannibal would buy him the largest carat diamond they had. Hannibal had responded that he was worth every penny, but that it wasn’t his style, and would appreciate a simpler ring. He was right, as always.

 

The ceremony had been in a backcountry chapel underneath a tall, beautiful stained glass window of Saint Stephen not minding the stones cast at him, but face turned up into Heaven in pure joy, the light of sundown illuminating every crease on Hannibal's’ face and highlighting the beautiful scar on Will’s face.

 

_“Hannibal, it’s not beautiful,” Will had sighed against the pillow, wrapped in the luxurious high-thread count sheets as Hannibal peppered kisses down the jagged line._

 

_“You’re correct, Will,” Hannibal murmured against his ear, drawing out another deep, heady sigh from Will. He traced the scar with his tongue._

 

 _“It’s_ **_divine_** _.”_

 

Will reached out from the passenger’s side to grip Hannibal’s hand on the gearshift, holding it as he switched into a higher gear. He let out a content hum at the change in speed and how Hannibal’s wedding ring looked so elegant on his hand as his knuckles turned white from gripping the steering wheel. He looked over at Will with heat in his eyes, and Will could only grin.

 

Because tonight, they would finally kill together. Their first time since the Dragon.

 

It had been eight months since they dove off the cliff together, a month was spent recuperating and coming to terms with their feelings towards one another.

 

Seven months since they had arrived at a beautiful Cuban villa, out in the country, on the seaside, but only an hour’s drive into Havana.

 

Those seven months had been about full recovery, not just of their bodies, but their minds as well. Hannibal hadn’t felt the urge to go hunting, not exactly. He would have liked to gather supplies to make his best dishes, but he wasn’t up to full strength and besides, Will was buried in the sheets beside him, looking like an angel Michelangelo set free from the marble. He would have given anything for this years ago, he would savor every second he was allowed.

 

“What name would you like, Will?” Hannibal asked as he put together their fake identification.

 

Will mulled the question over a glass of whiskey that cost as much as the jacket he was currently wearing.

 

“Patrick Kore,” he finally stated, “It’s appropriate, no?”

 

“How so?”

 

“Kore, for Persephone, caught between life and death. Patrick, bastardization of Patroclus. You likened our relationship to that of him and Achilles, I remember. When I should have left with you years ago.”

 

Hannibal was pleased with the choice. His own name would be Alexander Kore, then.

 

“Achilles is far too noticeable of a name.”

 

“Hannibal Lecter being subtle?” Will had inquired with a wicked glint in his eye. “Who knew it was even possible?”

***

So they had spent their time going into the city, taking in the culture, the music, the atmosphere. Will occasionally went out fishing, and they would eat the day’s catch while watching the tide roll in and out.

 

Some days, they hardly got out of bed, only moving occasionally for small snacks for sustenance or to change the record.

***

It was exactly two weeks ago to this day when Will asked Hannibal to marry him, during a dinner of fresh sea bass with fried plantains and rice, on their deck, during the dusk partially obscured by the thick stormclouds, the fading sun seemingly fighting for its last breath.

 

“Marry me,” Will had said, voice cutting through Hannibal’s thoughts, and placing his hand in his. He turned to look at his beloved, speechless because of him, not for the first time and certainly never the last.

 

Thoughts bubbled up in his mind, wanting to question why now, why he had asked now.

 

“Why now?”

 

“I’m not like the sun,” Will said, his other hand gesturing towards the sky, at the dying of the sunlight. “I don’t want to fight the darkness anymore. I want to surrender to it, let it consume me.”

 

Hannibal had cried.

 

Will had laughed, truly laughed, a beautiful thing that was becoming less rare the longer they were together. He laughed as Hannibal licked across the scar on his stomach, the laugh mixing with a moan that came from deep inside of him.

 

“Yes, Will. _Yes_.”

***

Details such as rings were settled quickly, and Hannibal had found a church far enough out of the way that they could be married under their real names.

 

“I have a wedding present in mind,” Hannibal stated as he poured the rosy-scented bubble bath into their massive tub. Will leaned against the doorframe in just a robe and a quizzical expression.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yes,” Hannibal stated, climbing into the tub ever so gracefully, Will followed after removing the robe, though not quite as gracefully, causing them both to laugh, forgetting the conversation for a moment.

 

Hannibal brought the topic back as he ran his hands through Will’s soapy curls. “Yes, a present.”

 

“Better than a wedding night?” Will had smiled, eyes closed in bliss, a treat for the eyes.

 

“Something quite similar, actually,” Hannibal said softly, hesitance in his voice that was not unnoticed by Will.

 

“What, then?”

 

“I was thinking that perhaps we should invite someone for dinner that night.”

 

The double meaning was clear to Will, who moved slowly so he could turn and look Hannibal in the eyes.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” he breathed out, leaning in for a kiss, biting gently at Hannibal’s bottom lip. The kiss tasted like blood and soap, cleanliness defield.

 

What was left of the bathwater was cold when they were finally ready to leave the tub.

***

They had arrived back home now, and the air was thick with tension as they sat and listened to Bach on the record and waited for their guest to arrive for dinner. Nobody important, a shopkeeper with a wife who was often seen with a black eye and scrapes.

 

As soon as he had stepped through the threshold, Will had locked the door behind him, and the guest turned and saw the darkness in his face. The fear flickered in his eyes as he bolted for the back door near the kitchen, but Hannibal stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder, as his other arm slid around the side of his neck, and soon he had him in a near headlock to hold him as still as he could.

 

Will took his time approaching them. Then man’s begging was becoming irritable, Hannibal only wanted to hear the anticipation buzzing through the air, so he placed his hand over the man’s mouth to keep him from making sounds.

 

Finally Will was in front of them with a knife, turning it over and over in his hands. He looked up at Hannibal with an absolutely delicious smirk, and slid down to his knees. Hannibal brought himself and the struggling man down closer, and Wil drew the knife across the man’s throat.

 

Killing had never aroused Hannibal. He had always viewed it as a task involved in the cooking process, along with cleaning the meat and sorting the pantry. His only pleasure had been in a job well done, never in the act itself. It should always be done in a clean and surgical fashion.

 

Killing Dolarhyde had been the closest thing to a religious experience Hannibal had ever felt, complete with a forced baptism at the end.

 

Killing this man, this _pig_ , now?

 

He felt like Saint Teresa of Avila, wanting to twist and contort in religious ecstasy at the divine image at his feet.

 

The arterial spray spread across Will’s face like a filthy fantasy Hannibal would have sketch, would have to _recreate_ , time and time again.

 

He had a sudden desire to drain all the blood from this man and let Will bathe in it like Elizabeth Bathory, to preserve his beauty for eternity.

 

To feel the life start to drain from the man he was holding down, to feel him start to give in, Hannibal realized that he didn’t want to be holding him any longer. As much as he wanted to savor every moment, he found himself impatient. And he didn’t have to wait, so he wouldn't. A part of his mind tried to speak up and claim that they’d have to clean the body immediately so the blood wouldn’t set on the cream-colored rug, but it lost out to Will’s gentle second ctu on the man’s neck, covering him in more blood and smiling like a fallen angel who was well aware of his choice to fall as he licked the blood from the knife.

 

Hannibal’s own knife found its way into the man’s neck, spine, back of the skull, anywhere, just so more blood would flow out, flow all over both of them.

 

When Hannibal dropped him, he fell with a dull thud, dead when he hit the ground. Will looked and blinked so innocently, _coquettish_ , that Hannibal roughly took hold of him and lifted him up, but it was Will who wrapped his arms around his neck to pull him in for a deep, deep kiss that Hannibal let himself fall into.

 

Almost and quite literally, as he found himself falling forward, reaching out a hand to steady himself, his hand finding purchase in the immaculate white sheets that were rapidly becoming smeared with the blood coating both of them. Will must have led them back to the bedroom.

 

 _What a cunning boy you are,_ he thought fondly, as Will snickered into the kiss.

 

“Something amusing you, darling Will?”

 

Will couldn't keep the pleased smile off of his face. “Are we just going to leave him there? It’ll ruin that rug you liked.”

 

“Fuck the rug,” Hannibal purred against Will’s lips, the curse a rare treat that had Will groaning in pleasure, but unable to hold back another laugh.

 

“Funny, _Dr. Lecter_ , I thought you wanted to fuck me.”

 

Hannibal smiled into the kiss, moving so he could kiss the scar. But Will surprised him yet again by rolling them over as he was on top, grinning into the kss.

 

“If we’re going to do this again,” he sighed in bliss, “We may want to invest in some red sheets.”

 

Hannibal had laughed this time, pulling Will into yet another deep kiss.

 

His last coherent thought was how black the blood on both of them looked in the full moonlight.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Come say hi on tumblr! http://somebodyhelpthenotdeadfreds.tumblr.com


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